Wicked
by ObsessivePuffin
Summary: “It’s a shame, really, Johanna, about Tom. Not even Slytherins talk to him.” Loosely based on Wicked the musical, a prequel for Tom Riddle, if you will. Includes some HBP spoilers.
1. Prologue

"It's a shame, really, Johanna, about Tom. Not even Slytherins talk to him." Loosely based on Wicked the musical, a prequel for Tom Riddle, if you will. Oh, yes, Lord Voldemort is evil, but it's not all for naught. He's got his story as well, and you should listen.

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Harry Potter. (Insert a wistful, lame joke about wishing she owned Harry now. Those green eyes! Ahh!) I don't own Wicked. Stephen Schwartz owns the music and lyrics. Idina Menzel owns her voice. As do Norbert Leo Butz (Ouch. What a name. Sucks to be you, Norbert) and Kristin Chenoweth. Gregory Maguire owns the novel. Winnie Holzman, apparently, also owns some novel of it based on the musical. Enough of what I don't own (Dhani Harrison, Johnny Depp). I do own Johanna Finch and other characters I've created. Cheers!

* * *

It would most certainly shock the wizarding world to find that Lord Voldemort was actually a person. With feelings. With hopes and desires.

Well, that was all for naught, eh? Tom Riddle thought to himself. Seems all those hopes were damned straight to hell, and that's most likely where they belonged.

Oh, yes. He'd get that little Potter boy tonight. The prophecy had to be correct; surely it was about Harry Potter. He'd heard of his parents. One a mudblood. Disgusting. Yet, exactly like his own father.

Tom Riddle sat back and let his head crash against the wall. It'd terrify the inhabitants of Hogsmeade to learn that the infamous dark wizard was hiding in a cave high above the village. Really, though, shouldn't he be out killing tonight? Like always?

He was hated for a reason, he remembered.

Even by the person he loved most. _Johanna…_

Tom caught eye of the Daily Prophet crumpled up a few feet ahead of him. Would he even be able to read it? He had one candle flickering in the cave. He watched the candle for a moment, watched the hot wax drip to the floor. What would the piece of rubbish say? He grabbed it and smoothed it out.

** VOLDEMORT, SUPPORTERS KILL AT LEAST 50 LAST NIGHT**, the headline read. Ooh. How terrifying. "What sort of evil creature would do this?" someone was quoted as saying. How little that person knew. How little everyone knew!

No, the world deserved what they were getting. Full of careless carefree bastards, the lot of them. Things might have been differently if he'd have gotten what he wanted.

"_Exactly how many people have you killed, Tom? Tom!" she screamed. "You don't even realize, do you? You've killed people I love!" She shook her head. "You say you love me and have for years. You wouldn't be doing this if you did. How could you?" Her voice quivered, and tears fell down her cheeks. _

He blocked the memory from continuing. Damn her. Damn her for being right, for his loving her so completely. Damn her for having a life without him. _Damn Johanna..._

He turned the pages of the Daily Prophet, one by one, hearing the pages crinkle. They were starting to yellow. Just like the memories that were about to let flow freely…


	2. Chapter 1

Hey, everyone! Glad you've enjoyed my story so far. As I said before, it's loosely based on the musical Wicked. Mainly the concept of the story behind a villain, and a friend to guide them along unintentionally.

**DISCLAIMER:** Oooh, let's see, what doesn't Holly own? She still doesn't own Dhani Harrison, son of George, in case you're wondering... She also doesn't own Ricky Ullman, who is her latest flame but isn't interested to learn more about him. He's not cool enough yet. He's not- oh, right, back to the disclaimer. JK owns Harry Potter. Michael Jackson (damn him) owns the Beatles songbook(leased to Sony and such). I do own Johanna Finch and a few other characters. (Switching to first person.)

* * *

Tom only blinked. Why tonight, of all nights, was he thinking about this? About her? He loved her name. _Johanna._ He could say it again and again and again…

* * *

"Hi! My name's Johanna Finch," the little girl grinned. Both front teeth were missing, and she had a lisp. "What's your name?"

"Tom. Tom Riddle," the little boy solemnly said. "How old are you?"

"Seven. Nearly eight! I'll be eight in a month."

"I'm older than you! I'll be eight in two weeks."

"No fair." The little girl pouted for a moment, then brightened up. "Hey, look! They've got toy broomsticks! Do you want to play?"

"Toy broomsticks?"

"You've never heard of them?"

"No!"

Johanna seemed incredulous; she, after all, had been raised to play on these things. They were most likely her favorite toy. Still, it wasn't fair to leave him in the dark. She told him she'd show him, and he agreed. Why was he so sad looking? He looked like he was about to cry!

"Are you sad, Tom?" she asked. "Hey, can I call you Tommy?"

"Er- okay," he agreed. "And well, I think…I'm lost! I was in the park with-" he stopped. "- with my friends and I sort of was walking around and and…I'm lost."

"Oh. I think I am, too." Her dark brown eyes were very serious. "I can't even find my daddy, and he was just here a moment ago!"

The pair chattered on for awhile, as she took his hand. What was this park? Tom hadn't seen this part before! The grass was even greener than before and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Even more, there were people wearing robes. Tom was starting to get scared. "Johanna-" he whimpered. "I'm scared."

"Scared? Why?" she laughed. "It'll be fun, wheee!" she exclaimed as she ran over to get a broomstick. Why was she riding a broomstick? That was silly. And it was weird. What was she doing?

"Come on, Tommy! It's fun!"

"Um." Tom began. He began to walk away. Where was Mrs. Mansfield? And Miss Aubersworth? Where were all of them? The other boys from the orphanage, they'd been on queue for the slide...

"TOM! Oh, Tom!" an old lady screamed. "There you are! I've been looking 'round all over for you, my dear! Come, come here!"

Tom walked slowly over only to be hugged by Mrs. Mansfield. She pulled away to look at him for a moment. "Dear, you're shaking. Why on earth?"

Mrs. Mansfield wasn't _ever_ this nice._ Ever._ Tom didn't understand. He looked up.

"Hello-"

"Hello, young man. Have you seen my daughter? Perhaps you've played with her at some time. She likes to wander off; and she knows she shouldn't!" He chuckled. "But she's a little girl, just like you're a little boy, and you all tend to do that." He laughed some more, which elicited a fake laugh from Mrs. Mansfield.

"Oh, I'm sure he hasn't seen her- have you, Tommy, dear?" Tom frowned. Only one person had called her that, and it was the girl he'd just met. Johanna. He wanted to call her Jo. But that was just silliness. He didn't even know her! He silently scolded himself.

"Please, sir- what was her name?"

"You're a polite boy, aren't you? Her name's Johanna."

"Oh- she's over there. Past the purple slide, I think, sir."

"Thank you." He muttered 'broomsticks' under his breath. Mrs. Mansfield frowned.

"Tom, what on earth were you thinking? Going off like that! We could have lost you, and then look where you'd have been! No parents or a home, to boot! You ought to be more careful next time, boy."

"Yes, ma'm." He said quietly, looking at his feet.

Mrs. Mansfield softened. "We wouldn't want to lose you, anyway."

"Thank you, ma'm."

"Tommy! Tom!" he heard a voice from behind call. His breath was knocked out of him as something shorter than him wrapped his arms around his waist. "Tom! I was wondering why you ran off! I guess this is why…" Johanna's voice trailed off, looking up at the stern woman towering over both children. "I'm sorry, madam, I was just- happy to see him- we just met, you see, and I was hoping we could be friends-"

"I'm sure that could be in order," Johanna's father laughed. "We could all do for a little bit of happiness, considering what's going on in the Continent."

"In Germany? Oh, yes." Mrs. Mansfield replied. Both adults were unaware that they each meant entirely different things. Her voice took on a professional tone. "However, Tom and I really must get back to the orphanage, and I'm afraid it may not be possible."

Tom looked back apologetically as he cast an look at his new friend for not telling her. She only smiled back.

"Daddy, why can't I see him again?"

Johanna's father looked after. "I don't see why you can't."

* * *

"He's an unusually perceptive little boy, he hears a lot of things, I guess I should say," Mrs. Mansfield told Johanna's father. "It seems your little girl's rather intent on playing with our Tom."

"Yes, she won't stop talking about him. She calls him 'Tommy'. It's sweet, I think. Her mother got a real laugh out of it."

Mrs. Mansfield smiled. "Your girl's awfully lucky. Actually, so is Tommy. He's a good little boy but-"

"-But none of the other little boys seem to want to play with him." Jane Aubersworth cut in. "I've only been working here for a year, and I can see that." She cast a look at Mrs. Mansfield. _What was she going to say about that little boy? _

Johanna's father smiled.

All of this was seen from the eyes of Tom Riddle and Johanna Finch. This was the second time she'd come over to play, and Tom was happy. He finally had somebody that would at least talk to him! All the other boys teased him. Tom told Johanna this, feeling incredibly silly. She nodded with her dark, serious eyes, and patted his hand.

"Don't worry, Tommy. I'll always talk to you."

* * *

"_Don't worry, Tommy. I'll always talk to you."_

Those words now haunted Tom. Damn her, damn her! How could she be so wonderful and so right!

"_Tom, Tom, what have you done?" _

A memory came to him from nearly ten years after his previous one. He shut his eyes quickly. He wouldn't think of that now.

Perhaps the little Potter boy could wait. Wait, just one more night. For tonight was Tom's, and Tom's alone. For him to spend on his memories. On Johanna. Those dark eyes still haunted him.

* * *

Ah. Another chapter done! I have a very rough outline of where this story is going, unlike my other stories. My other Potter story, The Simple Joys, is just about dead. I haven't deleted it in case I find the strength to edit it so it's more canon-ish. Harry really should be more broody- he's grinning far too much in it. Anyway, okay, sorry, guys, I kind of got off topic. Anyway, I'm really hoping I'll get some more reviews!

dances the REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW dance that was cut from the Producers

Please?


	3. Chapter 2

Hello, readers! No, I haven't forgotten about you. I've been trying to figure out a way to fit this story around HBP! I loved this story too much to let it die; and so I've decided that a few things may conflict with canon. Nothing major, just yet. A new theory may pop up in this chapter involving Snape. I adore Snape; but he's completely evil.

Oh, I'll go back and fix the last chapter so it's more suited for HBP. When I feel like it.

**DISCLAIMER:** I own Johanna Finch, and I don't own Phil of the Future, or Harry Potter, or Cal Langdon, or…anything else.

* * *

Tom broke off his memories; almost abruptly, as the memory progressed to include another wizard. Dumbledore.

Dumbledore terrified Tom. He had more powers; and he was good. Johanna had always trusted him. He silently cursed himself.

He never regretted hating Dumbledore. One day, Dumbledore would be gone, and all that would be left was the little boy from the prophecy. Harry Potter?

Severus Snape had helped him a great deal in finding the child. Snape himself couldn't supply the exact whereabouts; Wormtail had that. Wormtail was actually the one who had originally advised Tom to kill the Potter boy. The only reason the man was still alive.

Snape had helped Tom along the way on one promise, that he would give the boy's mother a choice. Not to recklessly kill her. No, give her a choice, Snape had said. It's what she deserves, he had said, his lip curling.

Severus Snape unnerved him and angered him; thinking he could give Lord Voldemort orders. But he'd paid for that with all the information he could give. Snape was loyal. As for the damn Lestranges and the Malfoys, they were the only people Tom felt really were loyal. Bellatrix and Narcissa were sisters; and highly annoying at that. But they had skill; and they had value; and so, they remained by his side.

He imagined killing the little Potter boy; dreaming of the day that he'd have full power. _Well, now, Johanna, wouldn't that be nice? It seems you turned out to be wrong after all these years,_ he thought sarcastically to himself. He could not stop turning his thoughts to her; every day since her last letter. That letter was ages ago. He hadn't seen or heard from her in ages.

Tom silently cursed himself for thinking so much about the damn woman. Why did he think about her so damn much?

"_I got tired of waiting around for something I know I could never have."_ The words stung.

* * *

_Dear Johanna,_

_Did you get a letter from this school called Hogwarts? Guess what, I'm a wizard. A man with an extraordinarily long beard came by. And told me everything. I mean everything. Obviously, it's not quite as simple as it sounds. Are you? A witch, I mean. You're too good to be the rubbish witches from the film Wizard of Oz. I suppose things really are different than I'd ever imagined. It would be foolish to categorize you in the same way as the wicked witch of the West, wouldn't it? I'm being silly; ignore me._

_I hope you're going to this school, too. I could use a friend._

_By the way, happy birthday. Was it as grand as your sister's eleventh? Now I suppose I finally understand why. It's all astounding. _

_I wish I had more to say in this letter._

_Happy Birthday again,_

_Tom_

Johanna read the letter once, twice. She bit her lip. Tom couldn't possibly be that clueless and naïve, could he? Perhaps he was a bit simple, she'd supposed, but that wasn't anything to hold against him. But still, not even knowing about magic! Raised as a muggle! Johanna had grown up with magic. Why, her parents had even worked with Dumbledore!

She vaguely wondered if that was who visited Tom. It certainly fit the description. Dumbledore was amazing, a hero. He'd been around since before her grandparents, which was certainly saying something. Her grandparents were ancient.

Her parents had pinned Dumbledore as the next Minister of Magic, or, if he didn't get that, at least the next Headmaster of Hogwarts. Johanna had met Dippet, too- he was kind, and he was very caring. But he wasn't Dumbledore!

Tommy didn't even know about Quidditch.

"Johanna?" she heard an abrupt voice, startling her thoughts. "Johanna, dear, we've really got to hurry. Diagon Alley can't wait, and the Floo Network's down, don't ask me why…" her mother's voice trailed off. "We'll have to take that- the new thing. The Knight Bus. Newfangled bus thingies…"

"Mum, buses are hardly anything new these days, you know that, don't be silly."

"Three decks, Johanna, dear. You realize? Muggles ride these things, too. And theirs break down, easily. This thing could break down, and worse, since it's magic.."

"Mum, it'll be alright, I think."

"Alright. Well, come then, dear. Have you got your things? We'll have to spend the night."

Johanna agreed and speculated as to whether Tom had gotten his school things, yet. Half her things were her brother Jack's, who had just graduated. She was at least hoping for an owl.

Johanna spent the entire ride to Diagon Alley in thought, wondering about Hogwarts. What adventures would it hold? She'd read even the muggle adventure stories, and they'd sounded more interesting than her life.

Hopefully this would change things.

* * *

There you have it! Originally, this chapter had "Miss Aubersworth" explain Hogwarts to him; as well as a letter from his mother. Obviously, HBP changed things. But STILL! HARRY AND GINNY! YAY! (It's the one ship I completely support.)

Has anyone got suggestions?

**REVIEW!** I've had TONS of hits on this story, and maybe a small fraction are reviews! It'd be really gear to get some reviews!

Sigh. I had to resort to using UNDERLINES.


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